


The Halloween Box

by tsukinofaerii



Category: Marvel 1610 - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-31
Updated: 2009-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:29:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukinofaerii/pseuds/tsukinofaerii





	The Halloween Box

Tony stepped slowly around the wooden box, circling it like a hungry vulture. It was plain, severely so, without even a single shred of honest decoration to its name. At one time, someone had attempted to paint it white. Little scrapings still remained along the edges and corners, and even that was faded and grey from time. At only three feet square, it was too small to hold anything significant.

"I don't trust magic." Tony glared at Steve, who was lounging against the lab wall with his arms crossed, posed like the icon of casual masculinity he was. "It's some sort of trick. A box can't hold _dreams_ just because it's an arbitrary day of the year. It goes against all reason."

For someone who had been raised in a significantly more staid era than the modern one, Steve seemed all too pleased with the enigma of the box. "Strange seemed to think it's real."

"What if it's a trap?"

Steve raised a single blond eyebrow. "I promise I'll rescue you from the box if it's a trap."

Tony treated him with another hair-curling glare, but the good Captain was far too resilient for even Tony's best efforts. The box reacted more. Slowly, he reached in, stretching his arm all the way in to the shoulder, well past what it should actually hold. His hand fumbled in the empty space, seeking anything at all.

It was preposterous, and absolutely against anything with a faint resemblance to common sense. A box couldn't sense what day of the year it was, nor tell what someone's deepest wish happened to be. There was no way in the world—

Someone grabbed his hand.

Tony yelped and tugged away, but whoever it was refused to release him. Inch by inch he pulled, dragging his attacker up. The beginnings of a familiar, red-leather glove peeped over the edge before it slipped away, falling back into the darkness.

Steve's head appeared beside Tony's, staring into the depths of the box. "What was that? It looked red, but I didn't see..." Dry, disgusting filth coated Tony's tongue, the residue of a good drink in a dry mouth, as he stared down at Steve's hands on the edge of the box. Steve's _red-gloved_ hands.

He needed a drink. Badly. "Nothing. It was— absolutely nothing."


End file.
